


Two Slow Dancers

by Kayhoneylemons



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: American Revolution, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Songfic, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayhoneylemons/pseuds/Kayhoneylemons
Summary: It could never stay the same and he had been a selfish fool to believe that maybe it could.Based on the song Two Slow Dancers by Mitski.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 9





	Two Slow Dancers

It was over. Deep down he knew that this was how it would end. The cold sting of the pounding rain and the stench of wet earth. It could never stay the same and he had been a selfish fool to believe that maybe it could. He had left for too long and had tried too little. He had once met the other nation when they were both still young. He had wanted something to call his own, but he knew deep down that it couldn’t always be his. And now everything slipped from his grasp. He felt his knees collapse as he made contact with the wet ground, selfish tears wracked his body. Tears he promised himself that he wouldn’t cry in front of the younger man. But he had always been terrible at keeping his promises.

“What happened to you, you used to be so great” he heard America say above him, pain and scorn evident in his tone, and deep down he knew that though those words stung they were true. He had been great, he had been powerful but it seemed that power alone wasn’t enough, it never was. But in the end, the world would still turn, the sun would still rise on the British empire so he had to continue. He pulled himself up from the ground he had collapsed on and turned away from the young nation not wanting to see his face. He walked alone across the mud-covered field, he heard the distant sounds of celebration. The celebration of independence justly won, the celebration of the end of his reign. He went home and let himself sleep away the tears that he had shed.  
As he predicted the sun still rose and all that could be done was to mourn what was lost and navigate what was new. He could never truly face the younger nation again, for the longest time the memories seemed still so fresh and painful. Memories of the fact that the world would always continue on without him whether he liked it or not.

“Hey.” he looked up from the papers he was shuffling to see America standing there, his hands were buried in the pockets of his bomber jacket. The meeting between the allied powers had just finished, It had passed in its usual fashion with bickering and no real work done and the countries filing out of the room exasperated about the events of the meeting. He had stuck behind to gather the papers as well as is composure he had fought so hard to keep. He watched America shift nervously on his feet as he stood in the doorway awkwardly.  
“Yes what is it,” he said raising a large eyebrow at the younger nation. America sighed and stepped closer to him.

“I wanted to know how you’re holding up” it seemed like America wanted to reach out a reassuring hand to the other nation but decided against it and letting his hand hang in the air before dropping it to his side.  
He felt his heart warm at America’s obvious worry about his current state. He just shook his head.

“As well as one could be doing during times like this” his answer didn’t seem to alleviate any of America’s worry. After a prolonged silence America reached forward to set a hand on the other nation’s shoulder giving a quick squeeze. Both nations became aware of the soft sound of the radio coming from the next room. This was another part of the routine of the meetings a stressed France would seek the calm of the radio to help dull the frustration the meetings always presented. The song was one of the many propaganda songs that plagued the radio these days, songs that sang of a lover coming home from war, songs that were meant to instill false hope in those who listened to it. This one was a slow melancholy ballad of longing for the life before the war.  
America’s hand still resting on his shoulder as they both listened to the song.

“Let’s dance” he turned to face America who had muttered the invitation, the younger nation’s face was turned away from him.

He smiled and set his papers down on the table deciding to give up on any semblance of the organization he had been attempting. Deciding to instead put his hand on America’s shoulder and settling another hand on the crook of America’s arm. America finally turned to face him his glasses slipping down to balance at the very tip of his nose. Blue eyes met green as America’s hand settled on the other nation’s waist.

They began to sway slowly to the rhythm of the song. America’s chin came to rest on his head as he could hear the younger nation’s steady heartbeat as they danced in the empty meeting room. They said nothing not because they didn't know what to say but because nothing needed to be said. They both knew that no matter what the world would still turn and the sun would still rise.

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally NOT a lowkey vent fic. but seriously I've never really posted any of my fanfics so lmk how I did and thanks for reading if you did!!!


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